


The Constant

by QuillMind



Category: Joker Game (Anime)
Genre: Adoption, Age Difference, Complicated Relationships, Drama, F/M, Family Drama, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Kind of Freudian?, Multi, Reader-Insert, Romance, Smut, Weird relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-07-23 18:08:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7474503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuillMind/pseuds/QuillMind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The members of the D-Agency were mysteries, but none moreso than their leader, Lieutenant Colonel Yuuki, known as the "Demon Lord."  As spies, they must hold no attachments, no sentiments.  But being human beings gets in the way of this.  Within the D-Agency was simultaneously their greatest treasure and greatest weakness: the daughter of Yuuki, and beloved of the agents.<br/>The reader's relationship with Yuuki is mostly father/daughter, while the relationship with the agents varies, from platonic to romantic to smutty.  Rating and relationships will be updated as the story progresses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Joker Game was so cool, and while I love all the D-Agency guys, I was quite drawn to Yuuki (I have a thing for low voices), and found myself fascinated by them. I just wrote this first chapter in one evening with no real plan in mind, but we'll see where this goes, yeah?

You were born when you met the man called Lieutenant Colonel Yuuki. 

Of course, yes, you existed before he had come into your life, but as far as you were concerned, your conception and birth occurred on the day he had shown up.  You had tried to pickpocket from him when you spotted him on the streets of the shithole city you'd grown up in, figuring the foreign, limping man to be an easy mark.  

You were not prepared for the surprise of him tripping you with his cane with a nimbleness that befitted an acrobat, but you recovered quickly and kicked at his bad leg.  He defied your expectations again when he did not budge an inch from your hit, instead taking out a folded wad of crisp, new bills.  Even with just a glance, you knew you could get by for months on that much money. 

He held the tantalizing papers just high enough that you could chance jumping up to snatch it, and watched you silently.  It was tempting to try, but your instincts told you that that was not the smartest move. 

"You're quite bold to attack a grown man, even a crippled one," he finally said, his tone betraying no emotion.  He spoke the language perfectly, with hardly a trace of an accent, even though he was clearly not a local.  He had a thin, angular face with a wide forehead and immaculately groomed grey hair that was slicked back.  His eyes were narrow and sharp like an eagle's and just as incapable of missing the slightest detail.  Most confusing of all to you was how difficult it was to pin down his age.  In part it was due to him being Asian, but he could have been in his late thirties just as easily as his late sixties. 

You frowned, squeezing your fists.  "Usually I don't have to.  If you weren't so sharp, you'd only be short a wallet instead of getting a bruise on your leg." 

Your body was tensing up, your teeth clenching.  You could have, should have, started running already--whenever a mark caught you pickpocketing, he made sure you never forgot your mistake.  It was the reason why you had the scar on your back.  But something told you that running from this man was pointless.  And you were intrigued by the fact that he was bothering to talk to you. 

The hand holding the money lowered until it hovered at his torso.  It would now be easy for you to grab.  "Where is your family?"

You glared at him.  "Never knew, probably dead."  The only concrete knowledge you had of your parents was that they were Asian.  Or rather, at least one of them was, to some degree--you would never know what else you were made of.  A mongrel, through and through.

"How old are you?"

"Eleven."

"If I gave you this money, what would happen to you?" 

Your eyebrows furrowed.  What was with this man?  "I--I'd buy food, and maybe some clothes."  It was not yet December, but the cold was already becoming quite intense, and the shabby shirt and jacket you had found in a trash pile were hardly enough to keep your teeth from chattering as you spoke, making it hard for you to sound defiant. 

"And then what?  This won't last you forever."

"I'd steal from someone else."

"Right now you can play the sympathy card, but eventually you'll grow up, and people have far less patience for an adolescent thief.  An adult one is even more likely to be killed, and a female one has further odds stacked against her.  And yes, the time will come when you won't be able to hide that you're a girl."

Your eyes widened, but you did your best to stand firm.  "What else can I do?" you spat at him.  "This is all I've ever done."

The man was so very still; the clouds of breath exiting him were the only reminders to you that he was a living being.  "If you want, I can give you this money.  You'll be free to go and spend it however you want.  But... if you wish to learn how to survive on more than pick-pocketing, if you wish to have skills enough to keep you off the streets and defend yourself from danger..."

What would he ask of you?  You cringed in anticipation.  

"Then come with me."

You blinked several times.  Had you heard him right?  A tiny mote of something unfamiliar rose within you, but then your guard went up again as you remembered many other kids of your age being propositioned all kinds of things in exchange for the promise of food or money.  Some of them were tolerable enough, like hard labour or menial jobs, while others made the food afterwards tasteless and the night's sleep offer zero comfort.  The unlucky ones didn't get asked, or even get their payment--they were just never seen again, forgotten and replaced with more young and hungry mouths.  You were so prevalent that you never caught the attention of the masses unless you took something from them.  This one already knew that you were a girl--or perhaps the fact that you could still pass for a boy was what he wanted?  You had learned from others that the seemingly normal-looking ones were often the worst. 

He seemed to have read your thoughts, for he then added, "I wouldn't do anything to harm you, and this isn't a trick.  The life I would have for you will not be easy, but it would never have you starving or freezing ever again."

You stared at him hard.  When you would later think back on this moment, you would be unable to remember just how much time passed between you.  He did not press you to make your decision, patiently waiting, still holding the money out for you to take. 

Finally you said, "Put the money away.  If you let people see that, you'll become a target for pick-pocketing." 

The corner of the man's mouth curved ever so slightly in a smirk.  He returned the money to his breast pocket beneath his coat. 

"What's your name?" you demanded--you didn't want him to think that just because you'd agreed to go with him, you would be a meek little mouse. 

"Yuuki," he said, with no ceremony or airs.  "Yours?"

You told him. 

"Your life under that name ends today.  We will be heading to Japan, so you'd be best off having a Japanese name.  You can certainly pass as one.  From now on, your name will be Tsuneko."

He held out his gloved hand.  "Let's go.  We'll get you some clothes and food."  You reached out and gripped his hand, noticing only then from the hardness that it was a prosthetic. 

You had led a lifetime consisting of harsh reality and endless disappointments.  Cruelty and scorn were your daily companions that had blunted your concepts of fantasy and dreaming, such things being luxuries that you could never afford.  Yet when this man gave you a new name, it felt like some sort of magic had been cast over you. 

So you thought nothing of squeezing onto his hand tightly, and stick a little closer to him as you walked.  Even though it was a prosthetic hand, to you it had felt comfortingly warm. 

And just like that, you were reborn.  From lowly street kid to the daughter of Lt. Colonel Yuuki.

Years later, you would often think that maybe that was when you had first fallen in love. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe I'm breaking the reader-insert rules by narrowing down the reader character's ethnicity and giving her a name? But I think it still works, right? 
> 
> The name "Tsuneko" has significance, which will come up later on.


	2. An Uncommon Education

It could be said that in his own unique way, Yuuki spoiled you rotten. 

His house that you lived in was modest and unassuming by all accounts, but well-kept and furnished with a sensible, minimalist taste.  You had your own room, which was in and of itself incredible to you, and a closet full of clothing, mostly Western, but some Japanese and Chinese as well.  Like the house itself, the outfits were quiet and simple in their design, but timeless and impeccably made.  A cook, butler and maid were present at all times and served as your guardians.

You were given extensive schooling from private tutors on the level of what those of the wealthy classes would receive, and then some.  Multiple languages were taught to you, including English, Japanese, Mandarin, French and German, and within those, various accents and dialects were examined as well.  World history, mathematics, literature, and sociology filled your waking hours.  The typical lessons deemed necessary for a lady were also included, such as dancing, singing, cooking, manners, and etiquette, but were mixed in with martial arts, lock picking, horseback riding, typing, driving, and swimming. 

Some lessons you continued all the way to adulthood--acting in particular, others you had only a few classes or less, but you were exposed to all manners of thought and disciplines, several of which you had never even heard of. 

It was an intense curriculum, but the immense cornucopia of subjects prevented you from getting bored, and when you thought back to the grim days of shivering outside during frostbitten winters and taking beatings for being caught stealing a half-eaten sandwich, this was heavenly. 

Yuuki never gave you toys as other parents would to their children, though he did provide games and entertainment in the form of chess, playing cards, and crossword puzzles.  You were to be chaperoned whenever you left the house to go outside, but greatly encouraged to attend theater performances and film showings.  Any book you desired was ordered and delivered to the house promptly. 

A lot of the time, you did not see Yuuki at all.  He left early for work every day, and often came home late.  At times he would be gone for weeks--those times were your least favourite.  You might have doubted whether or not he knew or even cared about what you did, if it weren't for the fact that whenever you did see him, he would always make sure to inquire as to what you had done for that day, and if you had gone to see a show, he'd ask what you thought of it. 

You would tell him whether or not you liked the performance, and he would then, without fail, press you on why you thought the characters in the story acted the way they did.  This part could be challenging, so after the first few times it became a habit for you to spend a fair bit of time considering your answer.  Regardless of what you said, he would appear satisfied with your answer, though in later years he would come to ask you for other random details, such as what the film's runtime was, the number of lights on the stage, a physical description of the usher, and so on.

One pastime he did indulge in with you was hide-and-seek.  He was always the seeker, and if you were able to avoid being detected for long enough to sneak up behind him and tap him on the shoulder, you would win.  The prize was for the two of you to go out together to wherever you wished for the day.  You did your best to keep your breath steady, memorizing and avoiding the parts of the floors that were creaky, and practicing how to move swiftly while disturbing the air as little as possible.  Every time you thought you had found a better spot to hide in, listening and watching for those limping, dignified and measured footsteps and that tall figure to pass you by, but he would always find you.  It frustrated you that you never won, and it was insult to injury that even though you had lost, he would ask you where you would like to go, his neutral expression softening the tiniest amount to hint at a ghost of a smile.  Pouting, you would tell him, while secretly being thrilled to see that minute bit of amusement. 

He did have conditions for these outings.  One, it would have to be during the day, and two, it had to be away from the city.  Neither of these bothered you. Sometimes, Yuuki would also adopt a different look, by use of spectacles, hairstyle, or attire that was a far cry from his normal business suits.  You would do the same, tying up your hair and posing as a boy, changing your dialect, or wearing a traditional kimono as opposed to your usual Western clothing.  Sometimes you would go to your chosen place together, other times you would be separate, taking different routes to meet at a predetermined spot.  It was another game for you two, pretending to be actors immersed in their role. 

They were mundane outings.  A walk through a park, a visit to a museum, a leisurely afternoon at a cafe.  You couldn't care less if to the rest of the world you were father and son, uncle and niece, or tourist and entertainer.  This was time that you were spending together as "Yuuki" and "Tsuneko." 

As you got older, different lessons began cropping up in your schedule.  Stage magicians coached you in sleight of hand and the art of misdirection, furthering what you had already picked up in your childhood.  A retired army medic taught you field medicine and basic pharmacology.  For one summer, Yuuki had given you a note instructing you to dress up as a beggar and find an old blind man who lived around a busy train station.  When you had found the man, he had been expecting you, and for a week you lived with him, learning how to turn off your eyes and heighten your other senses.  By the end of your stay, you could make your way from one end of the station to another with your eyes closed. 

Some lessons were given by Yuuki personally.  You were educated on the parts of firearms and how to use them, and practiced disassembling and reassembling them until it was practically second nature.  He made you forge documents until it was nearly impossible to tell which ones were yours and which were the originals.  He also introduced you to alcohol, quizzing you on what type of spirit each one was, and having you alternate between exerting enough control to appear quite sober, and acting disheveled like a lush.  These sessions were paced slowly and carefully, with him apparently always knowing when to stop before you actually became intoxicated, and strictly ensuring that you drank plenty of water throughout. 

But the lessons that came the latest in your life were the ones that perplexed you the most.  These ones, issued to you after you had turned seventeen, involved visits to a high-end courtesan that resided in the red light district.  You had gone to her apartment during the afternoon, though you still dressed in shapeless clothes or as a boy to avoid attracting attention. 

She called herself Momo, though it was clearly not her real name; you deduced that she chose it because it was easy for non-Japanese people to pronounce, not to mention the erotic connotations she could make with it, as "momo" meant peach.  She had been a popular oiran several years ago, but with the decline of the traditions of Yoshiwara, she had transitioned to a more Western version of her trade.  You had expected her to be hardened and bitter and world-weary, but she was quite pleasant and friendly, and it put you at ease.  You stared with amazement as she went from a just-awakened, freshly cleaned face to sultry vixen with full makeup, perfume and accessories, even her voice morphing into an oozing melody designed to entice. 

Momo had laughed at your wide-eyed wonder.  "It's not often I get that look from a girl," she reflected with amusement.  "You see how much of a different person you can become with just a bit of paint and red on your lips?  But you don't even need to go that far sometimes.  Just putting your hair up or wearing the right outfit can have a man who knew you all your life look at you like you were a whole different person." 

You spent hours visiting Momo on many days as she lectured you on the art of seduction and flirtation, the magic that could be done with a raised shoulder, parted lips, and squeezing one's arms together to accentuate your breasts.  It felt awkward and embarrassing at first, but Momo's shameless and non-judgmental nature helped, and you soon learned just how many different people resided within you: the girl next door, the crass lech, the icon of innocence, the sophisticated siren.  You were awed by how powerful they made you feel.

"You have to practice smiling," Momo had told you with emphasis, "and crying as well.  "Smiles and tears are two of the three great weapons a woman has."

You frowned curiously.  "What's the third weapon?" 

Momo smiled and gestured slowly between her legs.  "To be fair, with the right man, it's a weapon just as effective on yourself as it is them." 

She had then chuckled at how red your face had gone, but it was nothing compared to when she took you on a field trip.  A friend of hers owned a brothel, and allowed her and you to take a secret tour of the premises.  The building had a narrow hallway with tiny peepholes into every room, allowing for the owner to spy on her clientele and employees. 

Momo led the way as you crept through the dark passageway, laughter, music, grunts, moans, slaps and thumping sounds coming through from beyond the walls.  As nervous and bewildered as you had felt, you could not resist your curiosity in seeing what was going on, and looked into each room, breathlessly watching one salacious scene after another. 

Generally, the men looked like they were enjoying themselves more than the women, but the women seemed hardly unmoved, either.  The expressions on their faces were ones people never showed in public, raw and vulnerable and magnetic.  You had been grateful for how maternal Momo had been afterwards, acknowledging that such a sight was a lot to take in, but also saying there was a lot to be learned from the experience.  "Pleasure is a powerful tool," she had said to you.  "It's how people like me have been able to survive for so long.   You can too, if it comes down to it." 

She then paused, seemingly becoming lost in thought.  "Though, you probably won't ever have to, if you're being cared for by that person..." 

She had spoken more to herself than you, and was so quiet that you barely heard her, but when you looked to her questioningly, she merely smiled and stroked your hair. 

"I envy you," she had said to you with a palpable sincerity. 

That night marked the last time you ever saw Momo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The school of Yuuki is a challenging one, indeed!


	3. Bye Bye Blackbird

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would recommend listening to the [Diane Krall cover of "Bye Bye Blackbird"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RG7fPmzxZug) for this song, since that's the one I mainly stuck with, although if we're thinking of what would have existed in the story's time period, [Peggy Lee's version](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wVdz4YuMDQ4) works, too. Maybe it's a bit on the nose, but I liked the song to begin with, anyway. :p

When you asked Yuuki what his job was, he had answered simply that he was an office worker.  Initially, you accepted that, since he was not forthcoming with any more details. 

As you grew up, however, you became increasingly curious about your guardian, the fact that you knew so little about him nagging at you like a pesky rat that couldn't be caught.  And as your "education" spanned with more and more esoteric lessons, it became a mystery that you had to solve. 

You knew that he was highly intelligent and independently wealthy, and though he was Japanese, he did not adhere to most of the strictly ingrained doctrine of the country's nationalism and Imperialism.  He was also clearly a worldly man, since he had been traveling when he met you, and the wide range of subjects he knew about and imparted onto you would have been hard to acquire by staying within the confines of home. 

You had asked the servants of the house what they knew about Yuuki, but they simply said that they had were his employees, and while he treated them fairly and well-paid, there was no indication that he had any siblings or family members, as there were never any visits or letters that would point to this.  You then asked if he had ever been married or had a relationship with anyone, which earned you an admonishing look that marked the end of the conversation. 

On a few occasions you searched the house, looking for any clues that would tell you about him, but the one place where those might be--Yuuki's own room--was kept under lock and key whenever he was away.  You tried to pick the lock once, but were discovered by the maid, and given a sound scolding.  When Yuuki had returned home that night and was told of your mischief, he did not punish you, only giving you a look of faint disappointment.  After that, you never tried to get into his room again.

Eventually, you ceased your investigation.  You were fairly sure Yuuki was not a criminal--though even if he was, you probably wouldn't have cared so much--and he took care of you when no one else would.  He deserved, and had, your respect--and some other things as well.

****

Every year, on the day that you first met, you received a gift from Yuuki.  Discreetly wrapped and given without any pomp or circumstance, even if it was simply left on your desk to discover when you awoke or handed to you by one of the servants, you always instinctively knew that it was Yuuki himself that chose it.  They were often smaller things, never too fancy or flashy, but a trained eye would know them for their quality.  A lacquerware comb decorated with plum blossoms, a Seiko wristwatch, a Swiss Army knife, a fountain pen and stationary set with linen fiber paper--they were all your treasures. 

Sometimes you would go out for dinner, though away from the city center.  Your eyes were bright with excitement every year for this time, as you got to be in the mature and sophisticated world of adults with Yuuki.  With time you got better at masking your reaction, but inside you were always thrilled to be there with him. 

At some point, though, you had started to realize that the thrill came more from being with him than the fancy location. 

For this year's birthday, you went to a small French restaurant.  The dining space might have been larger if it did not have to share with the dance floor, but it was one of the shop's main draws, keeping tables full almost every night.  As always, Yuuki dressed in clothes that did not stand out, but were superb in their construction.  His hair was style somewhat roughly, and he went without the cane and glove, resulting in him having a younger look.  You wore a simple yet elegant dress in navy silk.  It was your first time wearing makeup, and you were constantly checking Yuuki's face to see if he would comment on it. 

The meal went by in quiet politeness, with him asking about your studies and daily life, and you responding in succinct detail.  Yuuki would show interest and encouragement, but never once did he attempt to censor or repress any ideas you had.  In retrospect, you understood that this was another one of his many gifts to you. 

In that lax time after dessert, there was a period of no conversation.  You were used to this; Yuuki liked to take a moment to not speak and fully immerse himself in the world that went on around him, observing the behaviours of others and seeing this moment in time as if preserving it for a mental scrapbook.  You did the same, though over the years more of your attention would linger on Yuuki himself.

"Did you read the book?" he asked without looking at you. 

Your gift for this year had been _The Happy Prince and Other Tales_ by Oscar Wilde.  "Yes," you answered.  "I read it as soon as I opened it and didn't put it down until I was done." 

"And?"

You tilted your head and gently tapped your fingers on the white tablecloth.  "They were sad stories," you said thoughtfully, "but beautiful.  Thank you for them."

Yuuki held his glass of cognac and swirled the dark amber liquid around.  He always took his time when drinking alcohol.  "Did you pity the Prince, the swallow or the nightingale for their sacrifices which ended in vain?" 

You pursed your lips and leaned forward, your arms resting on the table.  "Yes... but I wouldn't say it was in vain.  They devoted themselves completely to something they believed in, heart and soul.  Even if it was painful, they did as they wanted.  Few people can say they did that." 

"So it was worth it even if no one ever knew what they did?"

" _I_ knew.  _I_ would remember."  It might have been a contentious answer, but you stood by it. 

"I see."  For a moment you thought you saw a rare myriad of emotions flicker across Yuuki's face, but they were gone as soon as they appeared, and you lost the chance to identify them. 

Gentle jazz music in the background made you sentimental.  The wine that you'd had earlier for your meal had left your insides warm and light. 

You had been thinking of your question for quite some time before you voiced it.  "Why did you send me to Momo?" 

The empty glass slowly landed on the table, barely audible.  "You were of the appropriate age for you to learn of such things.  Books and teachers might teach you the logistics, but not the motivations behind such acts.  Momo knows more about that than several tutors ever could."

You leaned forward on the table, resting on your elbows with your arms pressing your chest together.  "Couldn't you have taught me?"

Yuuki looked up from his glass to meet yours.  Unflinching, piercing eyes reflected in each others'. 

"You know I was away during that time."

There was a suggestive, challenging tone to your voice. "You could have simply postponed those lessons.  I would have waited.  You taught me Morse code and how to field strip and reassemble a M1911 in under forty seconds, but not about what men and women--or men and men or women and women do?" 

Yuuki did not rise to the bait, remaining cool as always.  "Most young women would be uncomfortable learning about sex, let alone from another man."

"I was _comfortable_ with a lot of things before I even met you, and neither of us are 'most' people."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were having a tantrum right now.  I sent you to be taught skills and ways to think by various people of all walks of life to expand your mind.  Homogenization is never a good thing in the long run." 

You were about to retort when a man approached your table.  He was square-faced with bright, round eyes like a puppy's.  "Pardon me," he said to you politely, "but I was just wondering if you would like to dance?"  Even though he was only one or two years older than you at most, you saw him as alarmingly boyish, his smile desperately trying (and failing) to hide his nervousness.  It was kind of cute.

"I'd like that," you said after a pause, accepting his hand and rising from your seat.  You spared only a moment to glance at Yuuki to say, "If that's all right, father?" 

"Go ahead, Kana," Yuuki nodded pleasantly, before eyeing the man with light warning.  "But I'm watching you." 

"Yes, sir, of course!" the man said shakily, bowing his head to Yuuki before leading you to the dance floor. 

Differential, respectful, timid, you thought. 

A few couples were already there, lulled in by the extensive collection of jazz records the restaurant's owner had amassed, making the dancing slow and romantic, with bodies close together. 

"Your father called you Kana, was it?" the man asked as he wrapped his hand around your waist.  "My name is Keisuke." 

"A pleasure to meet you, Keisuke."

There was an awkward moment on his part when he had to fight the male, primitive part of his brain that had his eyes drift to the low part of your neckline, yanking them back up to your eyes, then away when he could not stand your scrutiny.  You knew exactly what had happened, and what he was going through, but you feigned ignorant innocence.  "Is something the matter?"

"N-no, no," he said reassuringly, leading you into the next step a little too quickly.  His hand was hot on yours, and the other on your waist shifted a few times as if it were itchy.  He was not as smooth with women as he might have liked to appear--probably an only child, you surmised.  Even without the nerves, he was clearly not an experienced dancer.  Surreptitiously, you guided him into following the right moves at the right time, keeping you from bumping into anyone or having your toes stepped on. 

Keisuke grinned at you, proud of himself for his grace.  "I'm not sure I've seen you around here before--are you visiting?" 

_He comes here regularly, which must mean he's well off.  And he loves an ego boost, so he likes good girls that he can impress._   "No, we don't normally go out to places this fancy," you replied with convincing shy modesty.  "We're just here for my birthday." 

He brightened.  "Happy birthday!  How old are you?" 

"Nineteen." 

"How wonderful!" he blurted out, then reddened at the clumsy foolishness of his remark.  "I mean, I apologize--I only meant to say that you're quite a lovely and mature young lady!" 

"Thank you," you smiled, while listening carefully for the ending of the song. 

"I have to confess, I find you quite charming," Keisuke said, his grip on you firming up a bit. 

As genuine and harmless as he appeared to be, he did not interest you.  You did not want to lead him on, so you stayed formal.  "I appreciate the compliment," you said, looking away as you heard the music come to a close, "but we've only just met, after all."  You began to loosen your grip to signal that you were finished.  "Thank you for the dance."

He was not deterred, and kept you in his arms as the next song began.  "Please, let's have another," he persisted, and you saw and heard a neediness that would very likely one day grow into controlling.  The eager-to-please puppy took on the likeness of an ill-tempered mutt.

 You were about to reply when Yuuki's deep voice broke in.  "I'm going to have to cut in, young man," he said, still playing the part of a gentle father but with the hint of a threat hidden between words.  "I'm quite fond of this song." 

You recognized it--"Bye Bye Blackbird." 

Keisuke went from attempted suaveness to sweaty discomfort, and nodded, letting go of you immediately.  "Y-yes, sir, of course," he said, and bowed before backing away, tail between his legs. 

Confident, long arms held you now, a polar opposite of the sweaty, twitchy ones from earlier.  You moved with ease together, matching the melancholy, yearning tune's melody. 

"I think you scared the wits out of him," you giggled. 

"I doubt he had any wits to scare out," Yuuki said dryly, speaking as his regular self at a volume that only you could hear.  "From where I was sitting, he looked as clueless as a dog with a crossword puzzle."

You cocked an eyebrow.  "You don't think I could have handled such a person on my own?" 

"What father wouldn't intervene when his daughter's being bothered by a bothersome kid?" 

"Hmm," was all you said, looking downward.  You should have felt happier--this was the first time the two of you had ever danced together--yet your mood was tinged with something somber.  Then, after a moment, "You think he's bothersome?" 

Yuuki eyed you carefully.  "Did you find him appealing?"

You rolled your eyes.  "Hardly.  You should know me better than that."

"I know you better than anyone." 

Your breathing paused and you looked at him, but his gaze drifted off, and he would not meets yours again. 

"From tomorrow, I'm going to be away from the house a bit more," he said, as neutral as always.  "I won't be seeing you as much for a while." 

Now it was your turn to look away as he searched your face.  Why would he do that, you wondered.  Surely he knew you couldn't be anything but displeased to hear such news. 

You thought you heard him sigh, or maybe it was just your imagination.  But then he drew you a little closer to him, and his hand went higher, past where your dress ended (you never worse anything backless so as to hide your scar), and settled between the shoulder blades, so that you directly felt his skin. 

It was very warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm starting to wonder if I made a mistake in making this a reader insert... this relationship between the reader and Yuuki is becoming a lot more complicated than I thought it would at the start, and maybe I should have made her an OC instead...? 
> 
> I have a serious problem with writing fics around characters who are hard to read. :( I hope Yuuki isn't too OOC here.
> 
> "The Happy Prince" and "The Nightingale and the Rose" are both beautiful but painfully sad stories, and I could see some parallels between them and JG and spies in general.


End file.
